Explore "Sister Seraphine" by Edna Worthley Underwood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We were sitting upon the terrace of Château Châteauroux in the early evening -- the old Comtesse M -- -- , Mischna Stepanoff, and myself. It was the time of the first soft warmth of spring. Two blossoming fruit trees beside us were sweet ghosts in the early night. About them white butterflies fluttered.
In the west there were great piled clouds edged with a pink as rare and as wonderful as that which Watteau created for his frail creatures of joy. And this pink was reflected in soft broken ribbons in the gently moving surface of the Loire.